Indefinite
by Clicio
Summary: “Are you afraid of death, young master?” “Of course not. Death only has one card to play. Life is much more terrifying, in my opinion. It has a full deck.” Ciel tries to draw the line between a demon and a mortal. SebaCiel.


AN: This (little?) monster here is me exploring the characters of Kuroshitsuji; it's funny, because they're already so twisted and messed up that even my extent of mind-screwery can't compare. Dedicated to two different people, one because this started out as a prompt game (I just ended up inserting the words as opposed to actually writing sections on them, bad Clicio, bad), and the other because she just finished Code Geass R2 and demands a reward. It's also funny that the day I finished this, Kuroshitsuji chapter 36 came out, and if you read this and then read that...

Hardest part for the fic was keeping with the third-person past-tense; I'm too used to first-person present. Well, it was fun to write anyways. I hope you like it! Reviews, comments and concrit are appreciated as usual. Cheerio.

Ciel is a few years older in this. Not yet an adult.

"_What are you?"_

"_To define is to limit."_

- Oscar Wilde

**Indefinite**

.**  
**

Ciel had a bad habit of walking off buildings.

He stood in front of a prospective one right now, sizing up its empty, blackened doorway and the crumbling mortar between bricks, his pocket a few coins lighter from the carriage ride.

No matter that the earl wouldn't have had to pay a penny if Sebastian was the coachman – he wasn't, he was still back at the manor, unknowing, and that was the whole point of this little charade.

Sebastian, the experiment.

As any realtor worth his salt would've told you, location, location, _location_ was everything, and there were no exceptions here. The building had to be far enough from the mansion, so that nothing short of _teleportation_ would make it in time.

It had to be tall enough to ensure a quick, albeit maybe messy end, but short enough to reduce the time spent falling, because more air time meant more time for the demon to get here, and that would make the game too easy, wouldn't it? See, Ciel had it all thought out.

Scattering a number of crows which surrounded the corpse of a sewer rat, brushing away stringy cobwebs, he made his way to the roof of the abandoned building.

_I wouldn't advise you to get off in this disorderly area, Lord Phantomhive,_ the coachman-who-was-not-Sebastian had said, and Ciel had replied with a scathing _Why, this is my playground, don't you see? My own backyard._

He looked down. Past his feet, the earth seemed so far away; if he fell from this height, he would shatter like a glass doll.

And ignoring the burst of the irritating feeling known as fear – bright, blinding, acute _Idon'twanttodie_ – Ciel threw himself headfirst off the rooftop. Closed his eye against the rush of polluted air that rose too quickly up to meet him. For an instant, a sharp pain flared under his eyepatch.

He was not suicidal. This was not an attempt to kill himself. Or maybe it was.

It was impossible for anyone to reach him, much less save him.

But then again, it was Sebastian.

Strong arms encircled him and the impact of the ground never came.

"Dear me, you seem to have found a dangerous hobby, my lord."

.

No more dangerous than fraternizing with two-faced, soul-consuming, mind-corrupting demons, thought Ciel. Demons with smiles that could charm the dead, eyes that promised you the world and everything in it, faces so breathtaking that roses wilted in shame by their feet.

.

_It was an obsession that started out with a thought. An obsession, unceasing, looming in the back of Ciel's mind like a plague. _

_But Ciel would never admit to that, oh no. He called it a curiosity. A passing whim._

_He wanted to test the limits of Sebastian's façade of humanity. He wanted to draw the line between demon and mortal. _

_He wanted to define what it means to be a human. He wanted, oh how he wanted, desired – ah-_

_.  
_

"How did you get there so quickly?" Ciel sat at his mahogany desk, fingers loose around a teacup. "How did you even know where I was? Tell me."

Sebastian placed a bowl recently cleared of crème brulée back on the trolley, biding his time before he answered, "When young master's emotions are particularly… strong, I can perceive them through your right eye, sometimes even through your mind's eye if the sentiment of joy, excitement, sorrow, anger – whatever it may be, is intense enough."

"You can read my mind? _How?_" Feeling thoroughly violated, Ciel recalled the surge of terror he had before he jumped, and the throbbing of the pentagram.

"Not read it," came the clarification, "just see the cause of the emotion." His butler bowed as he prepared to leave. "It is merely another aspect of our contract; quite useful if I may say so. I felt your fear, and I saw an image of the building you were atop of – you must have been thinking about it rather hard. Although," Sebastian paused by the doors, tone thoughtful, "I have also been seeing myself quite a lot recently."

"Nonsense." Ciel narrowed his eyes. "You– you followed me there. You were one of the crows, weren't you?"

Sebastian looked appropriately baffled. "A crow, my lord?" he repeated, but Ciel knew better – he heard the laughter behind that voice, saw the way red eyes glittered in amusement.

"Lowering yourself to scavenging dead rats. I suppose I should've expected as much from you."

"You shouldn't judge someone from their eating habits," Sebastian said lightly as he closed the door behind him.

.

_The first time it occurred to him, it was a cozy Sunday morning. He was warm and comfortable like only a good night's rest could make, and he relished this because Lady Elizabeth Phantomhive was on a trip in France at that time, and therefore he had the whole bed to himself. _

_The slow season brought about with it a wonderful lack of duty and urgency._

_Golden sunlight poured in from windows freed of curtains, and Ciel took breakfast in bed along with the daily newspaper, but he wasn't reading it. He was propped up on goose-feather pillows, asking Sebastian questions lazily between nibbles of scone._

_Questions like, "Is there a God?" or maybe "What does a soul taste like?" and even "Can you be exorcised?"_

_Sebastian entertained his enquiries, but the answers he received were less than satisfying: "If you believe in Him", "That would depend on the soul", "Would you truly want to exorcise me, young master?"_

_And then Ciel asked, "What makes a demon?" He meant how demons were created, but-_

"_What classifies a human?" was the question shot back at him._

_Humans aren't evil like you are, Ciel was about to say, but then he remembered the screams and chains and masks with no eyes, the smell of burning skin and painpainpain – he blanched._

_Sebastian chuckled. "Really, are we that different from each other?"_

_.  
_

There was a shadow which drifted from room to room, always lingering at the edge of Ciel's peripheral vision, always lurking in the back of his mind. From time to time it spoke, about what he wanted, and every time it made an offer which he would inevitably decline.

It only appeared when Sebastian wasn't there. Or maybe it was Sebastian himself. Ciel didn't really know anymore.

.

Eating habits. Of course.

"Eat," Ciel said the following supper, putting down his silverware. It was the main course – roasted chicken, fish filet, spinach pie and boiled mushrooms and mashed potatoes and a more than generous selection of food to choose from.

Genuine confusion crossed Sebastian's face. "Is the dish not to your liking?"

"I like it. Now eat."

"It wouldn't be proper of–"

"I order you to. You can choose anything you want."

"…Yes, my lord," said Sebastian and he leaned in towards his master.

Ciel was close enough to see the precise moment when Sebastian's pupils turned into slits, the moment wine-red irises flashed a brilliant crimson, a glow that raised the hairs on the back of Ciel's neck – _ah_ – he shivered, because this feeling was too familiar, too similar to when he was preparing to jump off the building.

He shivered because it felt as if Sebastian was staring at him without seeing his face but instead inside of him, caressing the fluttering thing called his soul with a simple gaze. It struck a chord frighteningly near his heart, the unadulterated _fear_ but at the same time, _at the same time, he wanted, he wanted-_

Don't think. He averted his eyes, but to be frankly honest it didn't help much because he could feel warm breath on his cheeks, tinting them rose, coiling around the shape of his own lips, the beautiful promise of death.

Sebastian's white-gloved hand curled into a fist against the equally immaculate tablecloth.

"Do you always play with your food like this?" Ciel asked softly.

The red glow faded as suddenly as it came. Sebastian promptly picked a chicken leg from Ciel's plate and bit down on it. The bone snapped clean in half with a sickening crunch.

One of them was breathing unevenly. The other wasn't breathing at all.

"Excuse me," the butler said smoothly and left, black swallow tail trailing behind him.

Ciel didn't touch the rest of his dinner that evening.

.

"_Are you afraid of death, young master?"_

_A snort. "Of course not."_

"_Oh?"_

"_Death only has one card to play. Life is much more terrifying, in my opinion. It has a full deck."_

_.  
_

Elizabeth came home from town one day with a hammock.

Sebastian hung it between two oaks in the garden. Initially, Ciel had thought it absurd – who wanted to dangle in net like a trapped fly in a web? But he wound up doing just that on a late summer afternoon, lemonade and exotic fruits – bananas, watermelon, pineapple on a tray close at hand, and he had to admit that it wasn't so bad.

Lizzy sat in the lawn chair beside him, dainty and pretty under a frilled parasol, sipping her lemonade with her pinky sticking out. She was telling him about the sights she saw in France when she was interrupted by mewing.

It was a black cat. And while felines usually weren't fond of Ciel – (Ciel didn't like them right back) – this one had leapt onto the hammock with him, purring as it rubbed its furry head against his side.

Ciel stared blankly at it – wait a minute; it couldn't be _him_, can it? But Sebastian chose that moment to emerge with a jug moist with condensation, offering refills.

The butler paused, however, when he saw the cat, very obviously recognizing it.

He watched the cat fondly for awhile, and then he frowned disapprovingly at Ciel.

What? Ciel raised an eyebrow. "Don't give me that look, it came to me by itself."

Seems that demons could get jealous too. But really. Jealous of Ciel, over a stupid _cat_?

The earl sneezed violently. "Take it then, if you love it so much," he said between sneezes. "I sure as hell don't want it."

.

Ciel didn't know that Elizabeth often stared at Sebastian with wide green eyes turned baleful with the same jealousy.

Sebastian did though. And it made him smile.

.

In the maze of London's downtown there was an unassuming, decidedly shady place, front lobby guarded by a dozen ladies with come-hither eyes and clothing that left little to the imagination. But it was no ordinary brothel, oh no. The girls here were numbingly gorgeous, high-maintenance, and experienced in ways Ciel didn't care much to know more about. One had to pay a hefty sum in order to spend even an hour of the night.

Not surprising that the Viscount Druitt was a regular here.

Ciel had the ladies line up in a row. There was a lot of variety, to say the least; each of them had a different height, age, hair length and colour, build, and so on; some were even exotic.

He told Sebastian to pick one, trying to sound indifferent.

Sebastian asked why. Ciel said temporary entertainment. Sebastian said it was bad taste. Ciel was about to turn around and leave when Sebastian suddenly pointed at one of the females.

"That one."

The girl he chose was beautiful, but that meant nothing in a room full of beautiful women. She had dark hair that fell to her shoulders. She smiled widely as she was trained to do, revealing two rows of ivory teeth, and beckoned with painted fingers.

Sebastian followed her inside.

Afterwards, Ciel asked why he picked that particular girl.

"She was lonely," the demon replied.

Since when did you care, he wanted to know, eyebrows knitting together.

"Because it made her soul melancholy. Bittersweet."

"You _ate_ her?"

"No, of course not," laughed Sebastian. "Not in that sense, anyways…"

Ciel made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat and that was the end of that discussion. But the words still echoed in his head. _She was lonely. She was lonely._

Later on when he looked into a mirror, Ciel would realize that the girl had blue eyes.

.

_Outside, the trees shed their blushing leaves one by one. Finnian had a field day raking up decomposing organic matter and subsequently throwing himself into piles of it. Inside, shielded by heavy velvet drapes, Ciel sat with his head in his hands._

"_I think I'm going crazy," he told the shadow in the corner of the room._

"_They say that the truly insane do not know of their own madness," the shadow answered._

"_I blame you, Sebastian," Ciel continued, ignoring it._

_The shadow hummed, low and silken, getting closer until it was right by Ciel. "I must disagree, my lord. I think you were broken long before you met me."_

"_Then I'm beyond repair because of you."_

"_But I can fix it, you know," the shadow whispered. Invitingly, dripping with persuasion and breathing into Ciel's ear, as gentle as cloud, as tangible as fog. Its darkness wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him close, skipping along his neck and eliciting a strained sigh. "If you'd let me."_

"_I – leave me," gritted Ciel. "It's… an o-order."_

_The shadow vanished immediately._

_The double doors swung open and Sebastian appeared in the doorway, taking in the dimness of the room and Ciel, hunched over with his face buried in his palms, his breathing ragged. "…Young master? Are you alrigh-"_

"_Goddamnit, why are you still here? I told you to _leave me_!" Ciel screamed._

_Startled, Sebastian bowed his head and closed the doors. He stood, motionless and silent, seeing an image of himself again in Ciel's mind. Listening to the groan of frustration from the other side of the walls. The contact on his hand rang with a phantom pain he was unfamiliar with, but if he had to give a name to it he would call it 'heartache'._

_.  
_

Sebastian almost didn't make it in time when Ciel next jumped off a building. He cradled his master before said master spat, "Put me down, I know how to walk. I'm too old to be carried around."

He watched Ciel gasp for breath with frail, heaving lungs for awhile, and he said flatly, "You are not making my job any easier by frolicking on rooftops in town at three in the morning."

Ciel had enough energy to look offended. "I do not_ frolic_."

"Then if you don't mind me asking – what are you playing at, my lord?"

"Humans," he panted, "are defined by their mistakes."

Sebastian considered this. "That is sad and true. But would you rather me have failed in saving you?"

"You couldn't have," Ciel said before lapsing into a coughing fit. Sebastian scooped him back up in his arms despite weak protestations, and headed towards home.

"I congratulate you on your epiphany; however, I would prefer if you use a less extreme way to prove your point to me next time," he murmured into Ciel's hair.

"…That wasn't the point though," rasped Ciel against the crook of his neck. "I mean. You'll forever be by my side, right?"

"Forever, my lord. But for a person who looks down upon death, you sure enjoy greeting him from time to time."

"_You_," mumbled Ciel, "will be the death of me."

.

The point was – _the point was-_

"Young master," he reminded him, almost tenderly, "I am a demon. I will always be one. You are a human. These truths will not change."

"Obviously," bit out Ciel, but inside were the quiet thoughts, despairingly, again and again. _I know, I know._

_Humans are defined by their mistakes._

_.  
_

Sebastian taught Ciel how to aim a gun. Ciel taught himself how to steel his heart and pull the trigger.

The first time after he lodged a bullet between a man's eyes, he dropped the gun and stared at his hands, eyes wide with realization. "I killed a man," he whispered, hysteria creeping into his voice. "My hands – look, they don't have any blood on them. They are clean. But – that man over there, he's dead, I killed-"

White glove on his shoulder, a pale smile as a reward. "Well done. You have very good accuracy."

Ciel jumped as if someone had shocked him, blinking rapidly. Then, in a perfectly steady voice, he stated, "We bring out the worst in each other." He slipped his hands underneath his cloak, hiding them from view.

"Not in marksmanship, it seems."

They stared at the body on the ground, the chunks of skull and the growing puddle of crimson from all that fine pink mist.

"No, I suppose not."

.

_The shadow came again, this time at night when Ciel was in bed, with Elizabeth sound asleep right beside him._

_Ciel's eyes narrowed when he saw it. "You wouldn't dare."_

"_Oh," it chuckled, "but I would." And without even lifting or rumpling the sheets, it slipped under the covers, pressing fully against Ciel as if it wanted to absorb him, snaking its arms around his waist languidly._

_It was sick, twisted in every way, but when Ciel opened his mouth to give the one command, his voice caught in his throat and came out as a shallow exhale of breath. The darkness skimmed the bottom of his nightgown, dancing along the line of his leg._

_Black strands grazed his cheek. "Has your Lady ever asked to see under your eyepatch?"_

"_Wh-what?"_

"_Did you know," it said conversationally, reaching up higher by a fraction – Ciel flinched, and the barest beginning of a whimper escaped his mouth, "that she wonders what your eye looks like under it? That she knows you take it off when you don't sleep with her?"_

"_I – I don't-" More strained now, punctured by sharp inhalations._

_A bit higher, a little closer – a single tendril drawing feather-light shapes on milky skin. Ciel buried a half-suppressed moan in silk and feathers, shuddering. _

"_But she won't ever find out, will she? Because it's ours, our secret." Even higher, brushing against the bareness of an inner thigh. "My one and only master-"_

_The voice, _his_ voice, right into Ciel's ear again, clearly enunciated, softly spoken, and it nearly drove him over the edge into magnificent insanity._

"_-Ciel."_

"Ciel?" _Elizabeth asked worriedly, and the shadow was gone. "Ciel, what's wrong? You're shaking." _

_Bolting upright, Ciel grabbed Elizabeth's chin and pressed his lips against hers, desperate, body on fire and mind in a mess._

_Downstairs, Sebastian was doing one last check of the house as was routine. A searing of the pentagram and an image flashing by – himself, once again – was all the warning he got before he felt the sheer, overpowering _desire_ crash down on him like a wave._

_Clenching his teeth, he forced himself to maintain his composure, even as his eyes instantly gleamed shrill red under the onslaught. _

_It was almost painful._

_.  
_

It was midnight. Ciel was still in his study, hands steepled in front of him, staring impassively at nothing, for it was dark and he could only see nothing.

"Should you not be in bed by now?" Sebastian walked in, carrying a candleholder. The wavering flames threw parts of the room in focus.

"Sebastian," said Ciel. "Put the candle down."

He obediently placed it on the floor, a questioning look on his face.

"Take off your tailcoat," said Ciel.

Unbuttoning the jacket, he shrugged his shoulders out of it and folded it carefully. It went beside the candle.

"Your vest, as well."

"...I beg your pardon?"

"Remove your vest," Ciel stated calmly.

Sebastian kept his eyes on Ciel's as he slid the buttons from their holes and put the brown vest on top of the tailcoat, forming a neat pile on the ground.

"And your tie."

The black silk was unlaced, slow and unrushed, and added to the pile.

"Now," said Ciel, "don't move." He pulled open the drawer on his desk and removed a pistol. He cocked it, took aim and fired.

The bullet flew straight and true and hit right on its mark. Sebastian looked down at his chest, where blood was already blossoming out into rose petals, staining his white shirt.

He coughed into his fist politely, and the tiny piece of metal fell to his hand.

Ciel admired his handiwork, the morbid crimson painting he'd created. "Sebastian, demons don't lie, right? Unlike humans." He replaced the gun in the drawer. "Come here."

When Sebastian was close enough, Ciel grabbed his wrist. He found a pulsing rhythm, the tell-tale sign of an organ doing its job of circulating blood. Because that's what it was, right? An organ and nothing more, incapable of feeling anything other than perhaps physical pain from cardiologic failure. The beats were steady, without a hint of the trauma the heart should've just gone through.

"Young master."

"I apologize for that, Sebastian." Ciel sounded very tired. "You may leave now."

Sebastian placed the bullet on Ciel's desk, picked up the discarded clothing and the candle, and elegantly bowed himself out. Not a minute after he left, Elizabeth and the servants came running, still in their nightcaps.

"Ciel! I thought I heard a gunshot – are you okay?"

"Uh, why are there bloodstains on the floor?"

"Master Ciel, you aren't hurt anywhere, are you?"

"I'm fine," Ciel assured them. But he wasn't, not really.

.

Sebastian knew what his master wanted. And as the butler of the Phantomhive family, how could he not serve?

So the next and last time Ciel walked off a building, Sebastian did not catch him.

It didn't mean he was about to let the bearer of the contract die though. He had doctors and physicians literally waiting around the corner of the 'accident', and as soon as it happened, Ciel was treated on the spot.

.

When Ciel woke up, he almost wished he didn't because now he felt the pain. He lay in bed. His head was wrapped in a bandage, as was his chest, and an arm and leg were in splints. His vision was blurry, but he could just see Sebastian leaning over him.

"I made a mistake, my lord. I didn't save you," Sebastian said. "Does that make me human?"

"How can it?" Ciel laughed, dry and mirthless, but quickly stopped because it hurt too much. "God, I feel horrible."

"Well, you do have several broken ribs. You got a concussion, and fractured your left leg in two different places, just to name a few injuries," Sebastian pointed out. "You'll probably feel horrible for awhile."

"Where am I?"

"At the Phantomhive Manor. I told Lady Elizabeth you had gotten into a carriage accident. She is out buying a get-well present for you."

There was silence. It was hard for Ciel to form a coherent thought in his muddled brain. He recognized the canopy of his bed behind Sebastian's head. It was light, so it must be daytime. He smelled antiseptics and potato bacon soup. He focused back on Sebastian's face.

"Demons don't lie, unlike humans," he said hoarsely.

His butler nodded once in acknowledgement.

"But would you lie to me? Just once. Just for now." He winced. "Please."

Sebastian's eyes widened, but then he smiled. "Of course, my lord."

He lifted Ciel's uninjured hand and kissed it, painstakingly gentle as to not disturb any wounds, closing his eyes reverently. "I love you," he said. "I love you. I love you."

Ciel stared at the canopy. He did not cry.

_After Ciel recovered, he didn't see the shadow anymore. Because sometimes, he'd call upon the real thing._

_.  
_

fin.

.

.

AN: So. I was trying to figure out the sleeping arrangements of married couples in Victorian England, because while the husband and wife _do_ have different rooms, they need to have, and I quote- "obligatory get-togethers in order to produce an heir." Elizabeth and Ciel are pretty recently married in this, so I had them share a bed. For obvious reasons.

Review button wants to be poked. ;)


End file.
